


stars collide

by bbyfruit



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 16:25:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbyfruit/pseuds/bbyfruit
Summary: Isak is, objectively speaking, the dumbest bitch alive.





	stars collide

**Author's Note:**

> title from drive by gemineyes

The music isn’t the _best_ , per se, but it’s not that bad, and Isak finds himself standing up against a wall and nodding his head. He hasn’t seen Jonas in a while, lost him among crowds and girls and thudding bass.

“Hey.”

Isak turns his head and almost starts when he has to look up, his eyes traveling over the boy beside him, tall and blonde and blue eyes and smiling down at him. Isak narrows his eyes.

“Uh, hi.”

The boy cracks a grin, a real one, with his teeth showing and his eyes crinkling up in the corners, and Isak can’t help but feel that little twinge in his stomach that lets him know that he’s in trouble. He’s fucked and this guy is hot.

“I’m Even,” the boy says, taking a step closer.

Isak coughs, looks down at his drink and tightens his grip on it in an attempt to keep his brain under control. “Isak.”

Even steps impossibly closer. His eyes are on Isak the entire time. “Yeah,” he says, “I know.”

Speechless, Isak stares at Even, his heart beating faster than ever before, like, faster than the time Jonas forced him on a roller coaster.

Suddenly there’s an arm around Isak’s waist. He jumps at the contact before he recognizes the touch and the smell of cologne and weed and he relaxes. Speak of the devil. “Smoke this,” Jonas says, pressing his fingers to Isak’s lips so he can inhale from the joint. “Good?”

“Yeah, fuck,” Isak answers as he exhales.

Even leans over Isak to greet Jonas, sticking out his hand and saying, “Hi. I’m Even. And you are…”

“Isak’s boyfriend.”

That’s the exact moment when Isak starts coughing hard enough that he doubles over, because, actually, what the _fuck_. Jonas keeps a grip around his waist and says, “My name’s Jonas.”

“Cool,” Even says, smiling brightly. “How long have you guys been together?”

Jonas shrugs and Isak is finally able to stand up. “We’ve been best friends for most of our lives, so we don’t really pay attention to dates and stuff.” His arm is still resting on Isak’s hip.

Jesus fucking Christ. “Can I talk to you?” Isak asks Jonas through gritted teeth. Jonas shoots a nod towards Even and then lets Isak lead him out the back door, outside into the night where there’s stars in the sky and random people making out.

Isak punches Jonas’s shoulder just barely hard enough for it to hurt. “What the fuck was that?”

“Chill, man,” Jonas says, stumbling under the impact. “That guy was hitting on you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he was obviously hitting on you. And so I got him off your back.” Jonas is chill about it, just leaning against a fence, and Isak blinks at him.

“By telling him that you’re my _boyfriend_?”

Jonas looks at Isak incredulously. “Yeah? That’s like, the oldest trick in the book, man.”

“Fucking hell,” Isak says, laughing, finally. “Thanks, I guess.”

The rest of the night is spent in a blur as Isak and Jonas share weed and dance on the outskirts of the party. Isak can’t help but let his eyes drift closed at the way Jonas keeps brushing his thumb across Isak’s stomach and he’s just buzzed enough to let him mind wander, back to the time when he used lay awake thinking about something like this and he thought he was over it, he really did, but there’s _Jonas_ with his hands on Isak and his heart is thudding with abandon.

“Nice meeting you both,” Even calls out with a bright smile as Isak follows Jonas out of the party.

Jonas grabs Isak’s hand.

“Uh, yeah,” Isak says. “Nice to, uh, meet you too.”

He thinks Even might be trying to wink, but he’s just tilting back his head and twitching his left eye and it’s simultaneously really hot and really endearing and Isak is a mess of emotions tonight and he needs to go home and sleep it off.

* * *

 

Isak doesn’t forget that night. He doesn’t forget Even’s eyes on him, doesn’t forget Jonas’s arm around him, doesn’t forget the way it felt to hear the word _boyfriend_ like that.

So when he walks into school on the first day with Jonas by his side and sees Even, he freezes immediately. His blood runs cold and he stops in his tracks, Jonas spinning around beside him to look.

“It’s that guy from the party,” Isak says by way of explanation. Jonas furrows his eyebrows. “Jonas, the _guy_.”

Jonas finally turns around and sees Even, watching as Even lifts his eyes from the green notebook in his hands.

“The _guy_ ,” he repeats after Isak, realization dawning on his face. Even stands up, long legs and his hands pushing sunglasses up into his hair, and he walks over to them. Isak thinks he’s about to throw up.

“Hey,” Even says, his eyes never leaving Isak’s. “We met at that party, yeah? Isak and Jonas?”

Jonas sticks his hand out and shakes Even’s. “Yeah, what’s up? I didn’t know you went here.”

“Just transferred,” Even shrugs, still grinning.

“That’s chill,” Jonas says, nodding, and then turns towards Isak. “We gotta go find Eva, baby.”

Isak can’t think, and he’s not sure if it’s because of how Even’s eyes are still heavy on his back or if it’s because Jonas just called him baby and picked up his hand.

They turn the corner into a hallway and Isak rips his hand away, rubbing the skin where Jonas’s fingers were. “What the _fuck_?” he hisses.

“He thinks we’re dating, remember?” Jonas says, looking at him like he’s fucking stupid.

Isak shakes his head. “He can’t think we’re _dating_ ,” he tries to explain. “Because, like, I’m not gay and that’s weird and we’d like, have to pretend to everyone.”

“So what do you want to do, tell him the truth?” Jonas says it like he already knows Isak’s going to say no, because Isak never tells the truth if he has a chance. Fuck Jonas. Or, well, Isak’s been actively trying to not think about fucking Jonas for the past few months, and then Jonas fucked it up with his forearm brushing Isak’s hip and the word baby falling from his mouth.

“Look,” Jonas says matter-of-factly, “it’s not going to be that bad. We spend all our time together anyways. All we have to do is just hold hands and act cute around everyone else and then we can just chill like usual and then eventually this guy will back off or whatever.”

Isak stares, sighs, and eventually rolls his eyes. “Fine, fucking whatever.”

* * *

 

Even starts hanging around with them and it’s surprisingly not that weird, and Isak gets surprisingly comfortable tucked into Jonas’s chest. They end up dicking around with two other guys, Magnus and Mahdi, and the five of them start to move as a unit around the school. And within that unit, there’s Isak and Jonas. People accept them as a _couple_ easily, which is weird, but it’s even weirder how easily the two of them accept it, how they fall into a pattern. They text first thing in the morning. Meet outside of school. Walk in together, bump shoulder in the halls, meet outside classrooms and share food at lunch and send Snapchats of whatever they’re doing at that exact moment and it’s weird and easy and good. And then it gets weirder.

Isak finds himself lying on Jonas’s lap one afternoon in the skatepark, complaining about the cold and pulling Jonas’s beanie over his ears.

“I’m not hungry,” Jonas says, moving his leg so that Isak whines and tries to keep his head on Jonas.

“Yeah,” Isak argues, “but _I’m_ hungry.”

Jonas snorts at him. “I’m not, like, going to go with you and buy you food when I’m not even hungry.”

Isak narrows his eyes because it’s not like he can’t _pay_ for himself, or go eat food by himself, or do anything without Jonas.

“I’ll go with you,” Even suggests, flopping down near Isak’s feet.

His first feeling is skepticism. His first reaction is to glance up to Jonas, but Jonas is searching for something in his backpack and then he just shrugs, looks at Isak and says, “That’s a good idea.”

Isak blinks. They started this whole thing to keep Even _away_ from Isak, and then it slowly turned into Even hanging around with the guys and Jonas did nothing, and now it’s Isak and Even going to get kebabs together with Even’s hands shoved deep in his pockets and his shoes shuffling on the pavement. He texts Jonas to avoid the way Even’s looking at him.

 **Isak:** jonas what the fuck

 **Jonas:** Even’s chill wdym

 **Isak:** you literally told me last night that u think he still has a thing for me

 **Jonas:** He’s hot

You should go for it

 **Isak:** im not fucking gay

 **Jonas:** Not saying youre gay

Just that theres a hot guy thats into you and if you wanted you could have him

 **Isak:** i dont want to have him tf

 **Jonas:** Idk its an option

Even nudges at his shoulder and Isak’s heart catches in his throat.

“So, Jonas mentioned you both play guitar,” Even says casually, raising his eyebrows. For as much time as they’ve spent together in the past few weeks since school started, Even and Isak have never really been _alone_ , mainly because Magnus is almost always an overwhelming presence and Isak clings to Jonas whenever he gets afraid of Even getting to close, making him feel too much, his cheeks heating up whenever Even so much as _looks_ at him. He really hasn’t let himself think about Even, as a person, outside of the friend group, but now, he guesses, he’s kind of forced to.

Even continues talking and Isak refocuses himself. “If you guys ever want to come over and jam, I’ve got a couple guitars, so that could be fun.” He looks at Isak hopefully and Isak feels a twinge in his chest. He coughs as he looks down.

“Thanks, man,” Isak tells him. “But I don’t really play. Jonas has, like, tried to teach me a couple of times, but that was fucking awful.” Even lets out a laugh that seems to somehow make Isak _dizzy_ , enough so that he has to stumble to keep up with Even’s long strides. “So now,” he says as he recovers, “I just rap over his riffs or whatever.”

“You _rap_?” Even snorts.

And, alright, Isak has been avoiding looking at Even ever since they met, but he can’t let this slander slide, so he straightens his spine and throws one hand over his chest dramatically.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m the _master_ of rap. The god of rap, actually,” he declares.

Even looks at him skeptically between his laughter. “A white boy from Norway is the god of rap. That sounds about right.”

“Yeah, it does, actually,” Isak argues lamely, balking under the glow of Even’s smile. It’s kind of hard to think when Even’s looking at him like that.

Even laughs, again, like he’ll never stop, and then holds open the door to the kebab shop for Isak, ushering him inside.

* * *

 

It’s not exactly what he planned for a Friday night, like, at all. But Jonas isn’t answering messages and Isak’s not even drunk but he’s somehow found himself collapsed on the living room floor, howling in laughter as Even skids across the floor in his socks.

“No, fuck, wait, I can do it faster,” Even says, leaning on the wall to hold himself up.

Isak leans up on his elbows, just enough that he can pretend like he’s sitting up, even though he’s basically boneless from laughter at this point. “Get a running start.”

“Jesus,” Even laughs, “if I break my arm, you’re taking me to the hospital.” He backs up and cracks his knuckles, rolls his head from side to side, and then he’s off, long legs taking one, two, three steps, and then sliding with his arms out to the side.

Isak’s stomach hurts and he doubles over. When he’s looking down, just for a second, he hears a noise behind him -- not loud enough for him to immediately know what it is, but just loud enough that he pauses.

And then Even crashes into him.

There’s yelling, a tangle of limbs, all legs and arms and sweatshirts and Isak thinks that he can feel Even’s breath on his neck at one point and Isak shoves at him. It’s a mess and they’re both _way_ too old to be wrestling on the floor, but it’s okay because it’s Even.

Or, at least, it’s okay until Eskild comes home to find Isak screaming on the floor as Even straddles him, pinning him down with Even’s laughter lighting up the entire apartment.

“Hi,” Eskild says appreciatively, one hand on his hip and the other holding a bag of groceries.

Isak squirms a bit under Even, squeaking out, “Eskild, this is Even. Even, Eskild.” His breathing is still hitching in his chest because Even hasn’t moved, has barely even looked away from Isak’s eyes, and his hair's hanging down and his lips are parted and there’s still a smile buried in his cheeks. Even rolls off of him nonchalantly. He stands and sticks his hand out to greet Eskild.

“Hey, you must be Isak’s roommate.”

Eskild hums, his eyes trailing up and down Even’s body as his eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah, that’s me. You must be Isak’s…” He waits for one of them to fill in the blank.

“Best friend,” Even offers, smiling brightly and turning back towards Isak. “Other than Jonas, of course, but that’s different.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fucking fuck. It’s in that moment, Even teasing lightly and Eskild looking a little lost, that Isak suddenly remembers that Even thinks he’s dating Jonas, and suddenly realizes that he hasn’t let Eskild in on that specific piece of information.

“Eskild, can I talk to you for a second?” Isak says quickly, jumping in before Even can say anything else incriminating.

Eskild wiggles his eyebrows and follows Isak into Isak’s bedroom, immediately saying, “Oh my God, Isak, he’s so fucking hot.”

Normally Isak would crack a joke or deflect it or something but these aren’t normal circumstances and he waves one hand at Eskild like he’s batting away the comment.

“Look, Even thinks that Jonas and I are dating,” he says bluntly. There are a thousand questions that jump to Eskild’s face, and he’s always easy to read, with his eyes lighting up and his mouth dropping open, but Isak doesn’t let him get a word in, explaining fast and low. “We were at a party and Even was hitting on me so Jonas pretended to be my boyfriend to get him to back off, but then Even transferred to Nissen and we had to keep pretending.”

Eskild can’t seem to put his thoughts into words. “I… You… Isak. That’s so fucking stupid.”

“Huh?”

“That’s so fucking stupid!” Eskild insists. “You’re into this guy and he was literally on top of you a second ago but you can’t do anything because you’re fake dating _Jonas_?”

Isak blinks. There’s so many things wrong with what Eskild just said that he doesn’t know where to start -- well, actually, he knows just where to start.

“I’m not _into_ Even,” he hisses. “I mean, yeah, he’s hot, I guess. But it’s not like I’m gay. Or, I don’t know, I’m not into him, I just like… boys.”

That, Isak realizes after he says it, is not what he wanted to say. Shit.

Eskild smiles at him more gently than he ever has, placing two hands on Isak’s shoulders. “Don’t be fucking stupid,” he says. “Fake break up with your fake boyfriend and we’ll talk more later.”

He leaves Isak with the smell of lavender air freshener in his room and the weight of his hand still on his shoulder.

* * *

It takes a week before Isak really lets himself think about what Eskild said to him, and what he said to Eskild, and how his heart jumps when he hears Even’s voice. It takes a week for him to really think about it, but it’s always in his head, murmurs underneath the surface, a voice that he’s been ignoring for most of his life, he thinks. It’s getting harder to ignore.

Saying those words out loud to Eskild, saying that he likes boys, whether it was a mistake or not, has made this whole _thing_ so much more tangible. Back in first year, when he had a crush on Jonas, it was easy to rationalize, to tell himself, _you’re just jealous of how much time he spends with Eva. Get a girlfriend and that’ll solve everything._ And even after he started to acknowledge that there might be something _else_ happening regarding his feelings for Jonas, it was easy to compartmentalize, to put his thoughts into little boxes and store them under his bed and only open them when he couldn’t sleep, when it was dark and those thoughts could never escape past the walls of his room. Honestly, when they started this whole thing, Isak thought those feelings would return in full force.

It scares him that they didn’t.

Because now it’s three in the morning and he can’t stop thinking about Even, can’t stop thinking about Even’s smile and Even teasing him and Even’s hands on him and the concern in Even’s voice when he noticed Isak falling asleep at lunch -- God, he _noticed_. Fuck. He’s so fucked.

This is some deep shit he’s gotten himself into.

* * *

 

He breaks up with Jonas on a Tuesday afternoon and comes out to him on the same day.

Jonas is sitting in his kitchen, poking at an unopened bag of chips as Isak scrolls through Spotify across from him, looking for a song that he actually wants to listen to.

“Can you pick a fucking song, babe?” Jonas groans.

Isak doesn’t even realize Jonas said it at first. When it hits him, he doesn’t know what to respond for a second, his finger stilling over the playlists and he looks up.

“Did you…” he starts, but then changes his mind. “There’s nobody but us here and you just called me babe.”

“Shit, sorry,” Jonas snorts. “I didn’t even notice.”

Isak’s quiet for a second. “We have to stop,” he says.

“Stop what?” Jonas tilts his eyebrows in question.

“This,” Isak says vaguely, gesturing between them. “Us. Calling me babe, and, like, holding hands and shit.”

Jonas pushes the bag of chips away from himself and levels Isak with a serious gaze. “What’s going on?” he asks.

Looking down at the table, tracing the grain with his fingertips, Isak says it. “I want to date someone else.”

“Okay,” Jonas replies, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Who?”

Isak chews at his bottom lip. “I’ll give you a hint.”

“A hint?” Jonas sounds skeptical.

“Yeah.”

“So give me a hint then,” Jonas says, uncrossing his arms to give a sweeping gesture, almost knocking the bag of chips off the table.

Isak bites his lip hard enough to bleed and then he breathes, in and out. “It’s not a girl,” he says slowly.

“Even?” Jonas asks casually and Isak’s heart drops.

“How’d you know?” he whispers.

Jonas shakes his head with a little smile. “It’s so obvious, Isak.”

* * *

 

“Wanna hear something funny?” Isak says, blowing out smoke and watching the tendrils rise. He passes the joint to Even, the two of them perched on Even’s windowsill, wearing jackets to protect against the cold coming in through the barely opened windows.

Even takes a drag. “Of course.”

And Isak’s trying to play it off like it’s not a big deal, like his head isn’t pounding in his ears and his stomach isn’t churning and he didn’t practice this in the mirror this morning.

“Remember the night we first met?”

“Yeah,” Even says, a little smile on his face as he tilts his head back to look at Isak. Their fingers tangle together when Even hands him the joint.

“Right, yeah.” Isak coughs. “Uh, so Jonas thought you were hitting on me so he faked being my boyfriend so you’d back off.”

Even looks confused, and understandably so. “Did you get together for real after that? Because that’s some fanfiction shit.”

They haven’t broken the pattern of inhale, exhale, hand the other the weed, and every time their hands brush against each other Isak thinks he dies a little more. Every word of this conversation, he dies in a different way.

“No, like, we’re just best friends and we just kept playing along, but, yeah, we stopped that the other day because it got weird.”

He waits for Even to say _anything_. Even just turns to the window, burrows down into the scarf around his neck and furrows his eyebrows.

“I was, you know.”

“You were what?”

Even smiles that secret smile again. His eyes flick down to their hands, Isak’s bitten fingernails wrapped around the joint. “Hitting on you. At that party.”

There’s a thousand things Isak could say at this point, a thousand thoughts in his head and a thousand words on his lips, but none of those words matter because he finds himself leaning forward, hands in Even’s scarf, and then it’s Even’s lips on his.

Isak pulls away, just the slightest, and holds his breath, waiting for Even to say something.

And then Even kisses him back and everything falls into place.

* * *

 **Eskild:** Are u coming home tonight???

 **Eskild:** haha coming

 **Eskild:** But srsly

 **Isak:** nah im staying at evens

 **Eskild:** OH!!!!!!!!!

 **Eskild:** Don’t be fool wrap your tool <3

 **Eskild:** Or have Even wrap his…..

 **Isak:** fuck all the way off

* * *

 

Even’s hand fits so perfectly in his that Isak wonders how he could have ever thought he was meant for someone else.

And it’s been months by this point, months of Even in his bed and in his life, and it’s still magic.

Even rubs his thumb against the side of Isak’s finger.

“You okay?” he asks, gently, meant just for Isak to hear under the noise of the party that they’re at.

“Yeah,” Isak says, smiling at his boyfriend. “I’m perfect.”

 


End file.
